Chapter 11: The Rigged Game
The original Esme hadn’t been killed for being weak or because she was scared. She was killed because she failed a test she didn’t even know she was taking.
Esme stood up and paced the bedroom.
I survived the wedding night not because I was brave but because my behaviour somehow convinced him I had whatever he was looking for. But I don’t have that. How long can I pretend to hold a key when I don’t even know what the lock looks like?
As if sensing her growing anxiety, the system appeared in her vision.
[NOTICE: Point Exchange Shop]
Congratulations Host! You have accumulated enough points to access the system store. Spend wisely to ensure your survival.
Esme blinked in surprise. A new interface appeared in her vision. It was a literal shopping catalog. She saw options to buy various magical abilities like physical stamina, poison resistance, protective ward, pain reducer, and a lot more. Each ability could be purchased in exchange for points she earned.
She looked at her balance. She had 1030 points. She could buy a lot of things. But most of the abilities were not useful to her yet. She scrolled through the options and found a PROTECTIVE WARD for 300 points. It offered her temporary immunity to his magic.
It could be useful. If he froze a room or his shadows started crushing people, the ward could buy me time.
She purchased the item. Her points dropped instantly.
[POINTS BALANCE: 730]
A gentle warmth spread through her chest. Then she scrolled to the point ledger which had the history of every transaction, every penalty, and every reward since her arrival.
Day 1 Calm Penalty: -50 Points.
Day 2 Calm Penalty: -150 Points.
Estimated:
Day 3 Calm Penalty: -450 Points.
She stopped scrolling and did the math in her head. The penalty was increasing exponentially.
If the penalty keeps increasing this way then by Day 5 it will exceed what I can earn.
The system’s economy was rigged. It was mathematically impossible to keep him calm and survive long-term. If he behaved like a normal, stable husband, she would run out of points and die within a week.
The system is a pressure cooker. It is designed to force me to push him further and further, to make his obsession deeper and more dangerous, until... what?
A metallic click echoed in the room. Esme’s head snapped towards the door. The deadbolt was still locked but the door was opening anyway. Eveyr stepped through, his magic having bypassed the lock.
He had taken off his jacket and was wearing his signature white shirt that was unbuttoned at the collar. His eyes immediately dropped to the open floorboard, then to the journal in her hand.
Esme froze. She expected him to punish her or demand answers. Instead, he crossed the room slowly and gently took the diary from her hands. He then turned and tossed it into the fireplace.
The flames caught the leather right away. The pages curled and turned black. Within seconds the original Esme’s final words were gone.
"You won’t need Julian’s little book anymore," Eveyr murmured. "You thought I didn’t know?"
He knew?
Instead of backing down, apologizing, or begging for her life, Esme met his gaze confidently.
"If you knew I was Julian’s spy from the beginning then you must also know I wasn’t very good at it. That book was mostly filled with complaints about your freezing estate."
Eveyr chuckled. He stepped closer and placed his one hand on the mantle, trapping her between himself and the fire.
"I let you play the Crown Prince’s game because I wanted to see how long it would take for you to crack under the pressure of my gaze."
Esme, instead of flinching, leaned into his touch deliberately.
"And yet, here I am," Esme murmured. "Tell me, Eveyr... did you keep me alive because you felt sorry for me? Or because you liked knowing my eyes were on you every night?"
Eveyr’s breath caught in his throat. The fact that she was using his own obsession against him only made him even more possessive of her.
"There it is," he whispered reverently, pressing his forehead against hers. "Julian sent me a terrified little dove. But you... you are something else entirely, aren’t you?"
"I am exactly what you were hunting for," Esme murmured softly, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "And now that you’ve caught me... you have absolutely no idea what to do with me, do you?"
Eveyr chuckled. The challenge in her eyes was like a drug to him. He finally stepped back, but instead of heading for the door, he walked towards the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress and began to take off his boots.
Esme was confused.
"What are you doing?"
"I am your husband," Eveyr replied smoothly, throwing his boots aside and leaning back against the pillows. "I’m supposed to share a room with you. Unless, of course, you want me to leave?"
"I want to sleep alone," Esme said, pointing towards the door.
Eveyr tilted his head and a wicked smirk appeared on his lips.
"Are you afraid of me, Esme?"
"I’m not afraid of anything," she shot back.
"Then prove it," Eveyr murmured, patting the empty space beside him. "Or perhaps... you’re afraid you won’t be able to control yourself if we share a bed?"
It was immature manipulation. He was attacking her pride deliberately. And because Esme had spent her entire life proving she didn’t need or fear anyone, she took the bait.
"Don’t flatter yourself," Esme scoffed.
She walked over to the bed, climbed under the fur sheets, and turned her back to him, pulling the blankets up to her chin.
"Just stay on your side."
As soon as the mattress dipped under his weight, she realized her mistake.
He tricked me.
Eveyr didn’t stay on his side. He moved across the bed, and pulled her against his chest. Esme froze, her heart pounding hard.
"Relax," Eveyr whispered, his lips brushing her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. "Sleep, my Duchess. I promise I won’t do anything to you... not until you beg me to."
Then he smoothly released her waist and turned to his side.
Esme lay frozen in the dark, breathing heavily.
He hadn’t just manipulated her into sharing the bed; he had actually made sure his presence would consume her thoughts even while he slept.
She had thought she was learning how to handle him. But as she lay there staring at his back, Esme realized he was actually playing a much more dangerous game.
